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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171151">Hatred's Shadow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernoGalore/pseuds/InfernoGalore'>InfernoGalore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Crimson Flower Route, F/M, Nagamas, Nagamas 2020, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:54:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernoGalore/pseuds/InfernoGalore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time, Constance allows herself time to dwell at length on what became of House Nuvelle. At the cusp of a breakthrough to restore the Nuvelle name to prominence, she consults her friend with something she feels only he is capable of understanding.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeritza von Hrym/Constance von Nuvelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Nagamas Gifts</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hatred's Shadow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/propast/gifts">propast</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All sound went unheard on the battlefield other than the hiss of the distant ocean.</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza snatching her from harm’s way was the first time Constance could recall scrapes of metal against metal and arrows whizzing hairs away from her head. But even while curiously aware of the new sensations, she remained indifferent to the reality of the ongoing situation, watching Jeritza’s lips move through a shattered plate of his helmet to form an unheard string of annoyances as his horse thundered through oncoming danger.</p><p> </p><p>Her head buzzed in its usual way; a particular droning that left her mind devoid of rational thought. Instead of answering him, Constance found herself wondering why he’d made such a pointless sacrifice to retrieve her. The mistake was her own, intentional or not—the consequences, as such, were acceptable; an inevitability she had long since come to terms with as soon as the sun rose that morning.</p><p> </p><p>So what if it was years’ worth of work and research for nothing? What did it matter if she died? Her efforts were futile anyway. If anything, it would be <em>logical</em> to die and to relieve others of the burden that was indulging her outlandish fantasies of importance and recognition. Everyone would be <em>relieved</em> and things would carry on as normal without it.</p><p> </p><p>Better, even, without her around.</p><p> </p><p>She felt no sensation as Jeritza shook her, the droning in her mind rising in pitch to a metallic whistling. Her attention remained focused on the sea as it sparkled in the distance. The noise in her head became crashing waves and chattering seabirds instead, something that sent a terrible desire to claw her own ears out through her.</p><p> </p><p><em>I could just walk right into it,</em> she thought to herself. <em>I could walk right off this cliff. Nobody would notice. I could stop everything.</em> Everything. <em>All of it. I’ve worked hard enough, haven’t I?</em></p><p> </p><p>Jeritza shook her with enough violence to jerk her neck in a way that it was not meant to be bent, jolting Constance from her thoughts and bringing her awareness into the present for the first time in several hours. Confused, and far more alert than she remembered being, she lifted her eyes to find him glaring down at her in a way that bordered on unhinged.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Wake up,”</em> he snarled, pausing for an extended period of time between both words, his grip around her shoulders strong enough to bruise had leather armor not been there to protect her.</p><p> </p><p>Constance blinked once, an action she did not quite feel, then again as she realized how intently the shining sea drew her attention. With a sigh, she lowered her chin to her chest and slumped forward, unconcerned with whether or not her friend welcomed the gesture. The feeling of her forehead against the scuff metal of Jeritza’s chest armor did not make her feel better like she had hoped, but the view of the ground was far different and unexpectedly welcome.</p><p> </p><p>The was less annoyance in Jeritza’s voice this time, more curiosity than concern, though some part of him still sounded strained and impatient. “What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“What does it matter?” she replied. “What does <em>anything</em> matter?”</p><p> </p><p>Lost for words, and puzzled by Constance’s behavior, Jeritza shifted on his horse and lifted Constance away from him. “This,” he started, and gave her another firm shake, struggling to keep her attention. “Stop this. We are at battle. If you do not pay attention, you will die. Your services are needed.”</p><p> </p><p>That got her attention. Sound from the world around her began roaring back into focus.</p><p> </p><p>“You are too kind to insist, but that is simply not true,” she protested, and felt apathetic at best as Jeritza forcibly lifted her from his horse, placing her on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Through clenched teeth, he voiced his final measure of concern. “The Emperor said to make sure harm does not befall you. You walked directly into a skirmish without noticing. I have better things to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you have better things to do. And I agree that you should do them,” she insisted, entirely serious with her concern. Exasperated, Jeritza mumbled something inaudible to himself as he lifted his helmet back into place. “Tell the Emperor there is no need to be concerned.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not your messenger.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are right. But you are my friend. And…”</p><p> </p><p>They both seemed surprised by the admission, Constance more so. It was the first hopeful thought she could recall clinging to in quite some time. Jeritza turned back, looking at her expectantly. In that moment, with only the two of them visible against a sea of trees, there was no endless ocean plaguing her sight, and Constance almost felt relieved. She stepped forward into what little shade availed itself to her, Jeritza’s line of sight following her. As unsettling as it might have felt otherwise, something about it gave her a renewed sense of strength.</p><p> </p><p>There would be no march into the sea today. Perhaps another time. There was enough lucidity for rational behavior for the interim.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you here?” she asked. “Or rather… What brought you to fight for Adrestia, Emile?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do not use that name.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is not an answer. But you are right, like you said before. You are not a messenger, and you have far better things to spend your time doing. As such…”</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza’s horse began to trot past her, his patience at its limit. “Get it together,” he snarled, and with a final kick, charged into the forest toward the sound of fighting.</p><p> </p><p>It was not long after his departure that a new sound of hoofbeats replaced the fading ones, and before Constance could turn to see who else was approaching, Hapi called to her. “Where ya been, Coco?! I saw you get nabbed and thought you were done for. C’mon, Gloomietta, let’s get back to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is a friend,” she explained, but did not take the hand offered to her.</p><p> </p><p>Undeterred, Hapi grabbed her by the wrist and with an exaggerated grunt, hauled her friend onto her own steed, sleeves billowing in the sea breeze. “Is he? That scary guy? Guess he must be a friend compared to the guy slinging arrows in your direction—hey, Coco, I know you’re having a moment right now, but can you at least give me your hand or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Constance offered her other hand with some reluctance, leaning into her friend’s grip until she was situated safely behind Hapi.</p><p> </p><p>“There,” Hapi wheezed. “And I only had to break both arms to do it. Y’know, maybe I should consider having moments like these like you do if it helps get me away from the action for a little bit. There’s more capable people out there, and by the looks of it, the tides have already turned…”</p><p> </p><p>“You are capable,” Constance insisted, turned her head to watch the sea until it was mostly obscured by the trees of the outlying forest. “Far more capable than one such as I.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well, a compliment’s a compliment, I guess.” Shrugging, Hapi turned her head, reaching back to give the other woman a reassuring pat to whatever part of her her hand managed to reach. “I’m sighing in my head, just so you know. Twice, even. Anyway, you just keep on glooming like you need to… And then when this is over, you can go back to work doing your crazy stuff until the next time you need to.”</p><p> </p><p>Constance did not respond, but looped her arms around Hapi’s waist regardless, unsure if her cheek had settled against her back of her own volition or if their ride had done it.</p><p> </p><p>“Think of it as… A forced break. Except it’s not a very fun break, ‘cause you’re fighting people and there’s no peach turnovers or anything, <em>but,</em>” She looked back again, batting at her wild hair as it enveloped both of them. “Now you can get back to it more ready than ever. Fresh set of eyes and all.”</p><p> </p><p>For once, she did not feel inclined to protest.</p><p> </p><p>♦</p><hr/><p>♦</p><p> </p><p>Forcing back Faerghus troops had netted dramatic success and a further turning point in the ongoing war across Fódlan, and with much of Adrestia’s infantry crossing the border into kingdom territory, the Black Eagle Strike Force regrouped for the next preparations. True to Hapi’s suggestion, Constance resumed her endeavors following the latest skirmish at Gronder Field, renewed with vigor from a much-needed return trip to where she now called home beneath Garreg Mach.</p><p> </p><p>Her talent was obvious to the point of parody with successes in color-changing food and edible clothing items, but something was holding her back. The materials were there, the subjects were willing, but some nagging part of her mind left her wondering what she could possibly create in order to cement her status.</p><p> </p><p>Was it even for herself anymore? She thumbed through several journals idly, looking for a particular sigil without actually paying attention, lost in thought and overlooking the exact page she needed several times.</p><p> </p><p>The talent was there. The ability was there. The blood, sweat, and tears were there.</p><p> </p><p>Constance paused, looking up from her desk, fearing she’d voiced the thoughts aloud. <em>Blood</em> was the most prominent thought, and that word alone seemed to unlock a new spiral for her to descend.</p><p> </p><p>She was holding <em>herself</em> back with a fear that could not be voiced to anyone. The blood was <em>not</em> actually there in the way she had considered, but it could be. That could be the element that brought everything back. It wouldn’t be revenge, but it could be a terrifying demonstration of what power was truly available to her and the Adrestian Empire in its entirety.</p><p> </p><p>Constance laced her fingers together as she leaned heavily on her desk, staring intently at the door’s dull, brass handle across the room. <em>Weapons,</em> she thought to herself. <em>A power so innate it could easily the hidden cache of weapons carried by </em>them.</p><p> </p><p>Had she ever voiced her feelings on what happened to Nuvelle territory? Had she ever admitted them to herself, even?</p><p> </p><p>The thoughts drifted endlessly in the abyss that was her mind, on and on without shifting their pattern in the years since it had happened. She loathed the logical part of her that insisted what had happened was completely understandable—an isolated territory so reluctant to make connections with others, so faithful in their own ability and yet faithless in what they could truly accomplish. House Nuvelle was a worldwide study in hubris, nothing more than a xenophobic group of blood-tainted mages who coveted their own research and treasures more than their own survival.</p><p> </p><p>She thought of her father regaling her with the importance of protecting the rest of the world from powers they did not understand or that they had no use for, how they were on a tier of humanity far above the rest of Fódlan. How he had hoped they might someday understand! Vestra was foolish to not to do the same. Ordelia was suicidal. But that was fine, he assured—it meant less competition for the importance of the powerful magic they had maintained for so long, each and every one of them descended from Noa herself.</p><p> </p><p>Her family had brought their undoing on themselves, held back by insistence upon tradition.</p><p> </p><p>But House Nuvelle, despite everything, was still part of the empire, and said empire’s fail to intervene left Constance sinking deeper and deeper into a hatred so black she could not imagine a worse feeling outside of what had happened during the siege on Nuvelle itself.</p><p> </p><p>One hand fell to the desk, paper crunching in her tightened fist. Damn them! <em>Damn them all!</em></p><p> </p><p>Her family, the empire, Brigid, Dagda—even herself, the lone survivor of an incident she often wished had claimed to her too. Why, then, was there so much fear and uncertainty about joining her family now? What had her holding on?</p><p> </p><p>Revenge felt like the wrong word. The crown princess—no, Emperor Edelgard had become a dear friend in her own time, a determined woman to bring change to the world regardless of cost. That outlook had sparked something in her, a feeling that went far beyond personal feelings, petty as they were. Edelgard was sacrificing her own bloodline and the empire itself for the sake of founding a world that would not view anyone as greater or lesser due to their bloodlines. Ideally, the new Adrestian Empire would become a place where individuals could be equal, and where the importance of community outweighed everything from nobility to annual tithes to the Church of Seiros.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it wouldn’t change in their lifetime. Maybe Constance’s research would affect anything in her own lifetime, even.</p><p> </p><p>She looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, unfolded it, and on what little space remained, took her pen to it with haste:</p><p> </p><p><em>What do </em>I <em>want?</em></p><p> </p><p>It was a simple question that left her nursing a migraine soon afterward, no closer to accomplishing her final product, but closer, at the very least, to some breakthrough for the future.</p><p> </p><p>Minutes later, she had Jeritza by the arm, ushering him back into her study with an excitement that felt so manic it bordered on dangerous. If he came unwillingly, he did not show it, keeping a respectable distance from Constance when released. Clenching her fists, Constance took a deep breath, certain she knew exactly what she wanted to say, exhaling with a croak when words failed to fulfill her intended purpose.</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza regarded her with indifference but did not leave. He addressed her in a way that almost came across as slurred, his eyes not quite finding hers. “What is it, Constance?”</p><p> </p><p>“Emile.” His eyes flicked up, but he did not admonish her this time despite visible annoyance. “I need to know something. There are rumors regarding what became of you after the fall of House Bartels, and… Well, it occurred to me…”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you before, Constance. I do not discuss that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait. Emile, I—This is something I need to know. I have an idea. I want to know crucial information, and you… You are the perfect candidate I can think of!” When Jeritza made no indication of leaving, she continued, breaking away from their conversation to retrieve a package from a nearby bookshelf. “Before I forget, thank you again for your assistance prior.”</p><p> </p><p>“Assistance?”</p><p> </p><p>Constance shoved the package into his hands, patting it twice for emphasis. “We have had this conversation before, remember? I do not allow debts to go unpaid.”</p><p> </p><p>He handed it back without so much as glancing at it. “I do not want this.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do not even know what it is. Trust me, Emile! You will enjoy it. Go on, open it.”</p><p> </p><p>Again, Jeritza refused, taken aback by the sheer force Constance used to keep his hands on it. She clenched her teeth through a threatening smile, squeezing his fingers until he finally slumped his shoulders, relenting. With a strong tug, he tore the knot from the blue ribbon holding a bundle of wax paper together, revealing a pair of pastries decorated with glistening peaches and powdered sugar.</p><p> </p><p>“See! Peach plunders. I told you you would enjoy it.”</p><p> </p><p>A rare smile graced Jeritza’s stern face, his features softening as he nodded in thanks.</p><p> </p><p>Constance clapped her hands in triumph. “Now then! What I need to discuss with you is different.” She became serious again. “House Bartels… When it fell, a rumor began spreading that you were the culprit behind so many of its members…” Dying? Disappearing? She remained uncertain over what terminology to use, not wanting to seem accusatory. “Is this true, Emile?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza, halfway through raising one of the peach plunders to his mouth, did not break eye contact when he answered, and Constance swore she saw something glittering in his eyes. “I will tell you exactly what I have told you every time previously. I do not discuss my past. That includes everyone who asks, you included.”</p><p> </p><p>She exhaled the breath she had been holding, nodding to herself as the gears in her head began to turn. Of course he didn’t want to talk about it; she knew that. “Very well then. Let me tell you my reasoning beforehand. Will you sit with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, Jeritza followed her across the room to her desk, sitting behind it as Constance began pacing in front of it. “Hear me out, Emile—I have grown quite frustrated with you since our reunion time and time again. I understand you have always been a man of few words, but this stems from something personal that has been plaguing me for nearly as long as I have been alive. You are familiar with the fall of House Nuvelle, correct?” She continued without waiting for Jeritza to confirm. “I have spent countless nights and many years forgoing sleep and other necessities for research purposes. Take another look at what you’re eating before you finish it.”</p><p> </p><p>The command seemed to startle Jeritza, and he looked down at the half-eaten pastry, eyebrows rising with interest as the remaining peach slices shifted from their standard yellow hue to the most verdant green, brightening again to magenta.</p><p> </p><p>“That? That was me. I did that. The, um, the colors, not the—” Constance shook her head, quickly correcting the course of her monologue before she veered too far off-topic. “A-anyway! My research and talents in tandem have allowed me to craft marvels such as that, but I need to apply myself to something far more serious, Emile. Parlor tricks will not restore House Nuvelle or bring me the proper recognition I desire. I am asking you this because I want to know<em> why</em> and because I want to know how it felt. I want to know what your justification was for… For doing what you did.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza sighed deeply, setting the package on her desk. She flew to his side as he rose again, hands gripping his broad shoulders with a desperation that would have looked feral to anyone else. “Emile, did you kill them? <em>Did you kill them? </em>Emile, I need to know, because I know what I can do for myself, I know what I can do for <em>my family</em>. You must have had a reason. The sweet Emile I knew would never—”</p><p> </p><p>“Enough, Constance.” Jeritza growled, and snatched her wrists. She fought him this time, sparks of magic flying from her fingertips. “Constance!”<br/><br/></p><p>Her eyes widened, that dangerous excitement igniting the kindling in her brain. “And what prompted you to do this, Emile? What made you kill them? You killed them, didn’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>His gaze pierced her to her very core. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>To say she wasn’t startled would be lying. “I asked Mercedes, but… Well, there was only so much she was able to tell me, you see, but she did not know either. I wanted to know the truth from you! Do you understand that? I wanted to know the truth because I need your help. I want to have some idea just so I know what I am truly considering doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza’s expression became passive again, his cadence the same slurred disinterest as before. “Mercedes was not present when the incident occurred. It followed when she and my mother departed the estate… They had what I would consider justifiable reason for doing so. And when I found out what my father intended to do…”</p><p> </p><p>“What, Emile? What was it? What brought you to such an extreme moment? Did he hurt them? Did he hurt you?”</p><p> </p><p>“He intended to take Mercedes as his wife.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you…” The shock of such an admission, strangely, had no effect on her. Constance finally took a step back to permit room for them both, raising a hand to her chin in thought. “This was what resulted. But, wait… Why so many people? Why not just your father?”</p><p> </p><p>“There was a sickness that coursed through that house. A sickness that required purging. But, in more realistic terms… I defended myself.”</p><p> </p><p>The revelation sent her into a spiral of thoughts, already drawing a parallel between her own family and House Bartels. To her knowledge, there was hardly a rumor of such a thing, but Emile’s firsthand account mattered to her first and foremost. Was the same thought of her own family? Surely some people considered such, knowing how reluctant her parents were to even receive simple visitors from outside of their territory. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her lower lip as she paced.</p><p> </p><p>“Constance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Does this frighten you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I… Would be untruthful if I said it did not. But what I really want to know, that aside, is… How did it feel?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Killing them. Killing them for a reason that felt justifiable to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza lowered his gaze before he closed his eyes, deep in thought over the answer. “I… Would say love. Perhaps you find that incomprehensible, to commit the atrocity that is murder many times over.”</p><p> </p><p>Unsure of how she wanted to respond, Constance changed the subject. “It has taken me many years to accept the circumstances I find myself in now. Had I known Edelgard was the Flame Emperor, I would have considered a different path. But… As I have come to know her, I find myself hopeful over the future she intends to bring. I find myself wanting to contribute to that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Motivations matter little to me. I do not fight because I believe in a cause. I fight for the thrill of battle, of finding worthy opponents in hopes to find the strongest of all.”</p><p> </p><p>Constance scoffed. “Well… That may be true, but my motivations are different! I have grander things in mind. But for many years, I have hesitated to acknowledge my true potential… At first, I wanted to restore my house. But with the future Edelgard has in mind, that… That will not be possible, if she truly intends to abolish the aristocracy. But! But… Regardless of that, I <em>know</em> that recognition is possible. I know exactly what I want to do, but in order for that to happen… Emile. Did it occur to you that the people you killed had families of their own? Children? Hopes and aspirations for the future? The potential to cure disease or eradicate war?”</p><p> </p><p>“My thoughts are not wasted on what-ifs and could-bes. I have no love for them. None of them were my family. We were related only through birth circumstances. Their names do not matter to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do not care about that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Caring about that would not protect Mercedes and my mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Constance nodded to herself, deep in thought. “If it were possible… I… I think I may have done the same. If I had known that the invasion would result in losing everyone… I would have fought until my very last breath. No—I would have fought until <em>every last one of them were dead.”</em></p><p> </p><p>She inhaled sharply, the admission of the thought bringing a thrill she could not recall experiencing before. When she looked up, Jeritza seemed interested. Grinning, she continued with renewed excitement. “There is no way for me to bring back my family. But I have the power to make sure the same never happens to anyone else I know. So much time has been wasted since I first began researching ways to restore House Nuvelle, but now that things have changed… I will preserve my own heritage. I will preserve that of my friends, of Hapi, of you… Emile! I know what I must do.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is no turning back once you undertake a decision like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. And I have considered that. But there is no reversing what happened in the past, either. However… I can prevent anything of its caliber in the future. I will use this power to its fullest—but in order to do that, there is additional research to be done. I know exactly where I must go when this war ends. If anything… The true battle has only just begun.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeritza said nothing, occupied with the mess of notes littered about Constance’s desk and the surrounding rug.</p><p> </p><p>“Emile.”</p><p> </p><p>He glanced up.</p><p> </p><p>“You will assist me, yes? I must find… <em>Them</em>. Those Who Slither in the Dark. The power of their weapons… It is wasted in their hands. Imagine what <em>I</em> could do with those available materials! They are <em>calling</em> to me, Emile, in the way that the thrill of battle calls to you.”</p><p> </p><p>He reiterated his previous statement. <em>“There is no turning back.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“It is too much power for them to wield. The easier I make it to kill, the less time there is to master the art of knowing when not to. Emile… And by the time I have finished, they will think I have made <em>time itself</em> the most devastating weapon this world has ever seen.”</p><p> </p>
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